Let me just rewind right on back to the moments that lead up to me doing the nasty deed that I did.
As always, I am overly excited and eager to go out on a Saturday night. This must have led to faster than usual beer consumption and my happy acceptance of any shot set in front of me. There was no gradual work up into drunkenness, it was abrupt as fuck. Basically like doing 0-60 in 1.5 seconds without even knowing my foot was on the gas. And no brakes either. I was fall down drunk, grabbing tits, and got behind the bar with the bartender. Girth found me on the side of the road with the contents of my purse scattered around me. There is a hole in the knee of my favorite jeans and gross gash on my knee. I don't remember leaving the bar or countless moments before that, getting home, or passing out.
Now, here is where things get dicey.
I wake up at 4 in the morning, sick. I'm naked in the bathroom shaking, sweating, puking. Well, I lay down on the floor because I am hot flashing and the cold floor feels awesome on my fat naked skin- and then things got weird. On my side, literally curled into the fetal position, I have to shit. But I can't move, because I am too busy dying. All of a sudden, I feel it. The poop. My eyeballs popped open and I just laid there, pooping on myself. Literally. My poop popped out of my butt, bounced off my butt cheek and thudded on the floor. Suddenly I could move, and sprung up and started puking again. Even through the shit and the puke, I was happy that I have been doing squats. Somehow my brain focused on the fact that shit (although literally) bounced off my awesome ass. Thinking back, the fact that I was not in a dancing mood while being so disgustingly drunk was a godsend. But that wasn't the miracle moment. The miracle moment was that I had a nice solid poop. Had it been any other kind of shit, I am not sure what would have happened.
As always, I am overly excited and eager to go out on a Saturday night. This must have led to faster than usual beer consumption and my happy acceptance of any shot set in front of me. There was no gradual work up into drunkenness, it was abrupt as fuck. Basically like doing 0-60 in 1.5 seconds without even knowing my foot was on the gas. And no brakes either. I was fall down drunk, grabbing tits, and got behind the bar with the bartender. Girth found me on the side of the road with the contents of my purse scattered around me. There is a hole in the knee of my favorite jeans and gross gash on my knee. I don't remember leaving the bar or countless moments before that, getting home, or passing out.
Now, here is where things get dicey.
I wake up at 4 in the morning, sick. I'm naked in the bathroom shaking, sweating, puking. Well, I lay down on the floor because I am hot flashing and the cold floor feels awesome on my fat naked skin- and then things got weird. On my side, literally curled into the fetal position, I have to shit. But I can't move, because I am too busy dying. All of a sudden, I feel it. The poop. My eyeballs popped open and I just laid there, pooping on myself. Literally. My poop popped out of my butt, bounced off my butt cheek and thudded on the floor. Suddenly I could move, and sprung up and started puking again. Even through the shit and the puke, I was happy that I have been doing squats. Somehow my brain focused on the fact that shit (although literally) bounced off my awesome ass. Thinking back, the fact that I was not in a dancing mood while being so disgustingly drunk was a godsend. But that wasn't the miracle moment. The miracle moment was that I had a nice solid poop. Had it been any other kind of shit, I am not sure what would have happened.
It's true, I shit you not...
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